On Close Runs and the Arrival of Sweetie

She is due in about an hour. I suppose I should be off soon to meet her at the station, but it is warm in bed here, and cold outside. On top of that I only got in a little while ago from the anime convention where I had a rather close run.

At these conventions it is rather common for people to walk around with free hug signs. They mean exactly what they say. You can walk up to these people, ask for a hug and get one. On occasion I do this, particularly with people who are squishy in the right places.

After a minor duel in the middle of the convention with someone I got rather suddenly glomped by someone wearing one of these signs, a rather nice someone. Apparently one of my friends had told her that I needed a hug, and she had decided a glomp was more in order. For anyone who does not know what a glomp is, it is a hug with a runup, and usually involving wrapping the legs around the waist.

This caught me somewhat by suprise, but she was cute, felt nice, and had just the right amount of squishiness. In fact enough of the right amount that I asked if I could steal her. With an affirmative answer I started to carry her, still clinging to me, out of the convention and to somewhere quieter so we could get better acquainted.

Then a little voice whispered in my ear.

Not my conscience or any crap like that. My friend whispered to me 'she's fourteen'.

I hate that bastard.

And I have just found out some very good news. Apparently my divorce is actually through. Not that I plan to get remarried, but the psychotic abusive bitch is now completely severed from me and none of my responsibility.

Plus I have a fresh bottle of Brazilian tequila. Life is good.

So How Did I End Up Rampant?

This is not an attempt at self-justification, I do not count any of these as reasons, or excuses, simply things that have led me to be the way I am. To be honest I do not even see any reason that I should justify myself, I do not feel I am doing anything wrong. Anyway moving on...

So this little story accounts the tragedy that was my marriage. Obviously it was my first marriage, and I do not know whether I am divorced now or not. That is another story which I have mentioned before.

I met the Ex-Wife while she was in England on a study exchange program from America, going to a University in London. We got together, and she lost her virginity to me shortly after I saved her life. That may take some explaining. The place she was living was a rented room in a house. The owners of the house at one point went on holiday, and their son decided to break into their house. I happened to be visiting at the time so when he came down with a carving knife to chase her out of the house, since it was 'his house' according to his drug-addled brain I managed to get in the way and take it away from him.

While I spent about ten minutes talking him down, keeping him pinned, she packed her stuff and loaded it into my car. After that she moved in.

Everything was fine for about nine months after that, and at Christmas I proposed. Three months later she had to go back to America for a year in order to finish her course, and we agreed that the wedding would be after she had finished her course, and that we would consider ourselves free agents until then. Yes, I know that is quite obviously a stupid idea, but at the time I did not realise.

During that year there were all sorts of indications that perhaps marriage was not for me, but my family and friends constantly told me how happy they were for me. Admittedly they did not know that during that year I paid my rent at university by being essentially a house-pet for the five student nurses my accomodation was shared with. Nor the other events that happened. The last indication I really should have picked up on was that on the flight over to America for my wedding, I ended up having sex with another passenger.

Unfortunately by this point everything had gathered a large momentum, and despite expressing a few doubts I could not get things post-poned, let alone cancelled, without just saying no. I did speak to her father about this, as I was staying with them, but he made it quite clear that I was going to marry his daughter. Or get shot. He even showed me the gun as he explained. You can imagine the sort of impression that had on me.

After the marriage, and a short honeymoon, we returned back to England. Since I was still a student and she was unemployed my parents had converted part of the house into a flat for the two of us. The idea was that she would be looking for a job, while I continued my studies.

Six months later I left University, in order to try and find a job since she had supposedly had no luck. She had also revealed that she was somewhat abusive, and I still have some scars from times when I would come home, see her on the computer, and suggest that maybe she should do the cooking for once, or maybe tidy up a little, or make a little more effort to look for a job.

Two months later I kicked her out after finding that about 200 application forms I had picked up for her over the last eight months had not been filled in, but had in fact been hidden under the bed. I found out a few weeks later that she had also been cheating on me, with at least two different people.

A little after that I found out that I owed £20 000 on credit cards that she had applied for in my name. I still do not really know what she spent the money on, though I did find some receipts that at least some of it was spent on her having very expensive meals out with another person.

I went a little loopy for a while after that. Went somewhat goth.